A Proposal Fit for Eris
by Sequ3stered
Summary: Tonks drives Remus insane and he's going to tell her so. But distraction arrives in the form of breakfast, and something entirely different ensues. [RemusTonks]


_A Proposal Fit for Eris_

Sure of Sun

**Author's Note:** Every once in a while, I spit out one of these messy fics. I've never really had the nerve to post one until now. Enjoy. :)

As for the title, Eris is the mythological goddess of chaos.

**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling is my hero.

In many ways, Nymphadora Tonks drove Remus Lupin absolutely mad.

Whether it was the loud, blaring music that seemed to play at all hours, or the incredible amount of noise she made when she made in her sleep (honestly, soldiers got better rest than he!), she made him completely insane. Life with her was pandemonium at its best.

She would often curl up beside him while he was reading or taking important notes, nuzzling his neck or touching his arm or in some way to make it impossible to concentrate. Didn't she know that he had significant things to do? Reports to compose and postmark and send?

Obviously not.

She seemed to enjoy pestering him most when he was doing something particularly essential to the war effort or for the Order. She wanted him to pay attention to her; demonstrate that she, a living breathing woman, was a hell of a lot more interesting than some stupid report.

That was part of the problem.

She was flesh and blood, vitality and joy, all in one package. She was everything he could ever wish for: charming, quirky, full of vibrancy and brilliance. She created beauty in anything, even the revolting public restrooms in Diagon Alley or the exasperating ghoul that haunted their basement.

So of course he had to put down his pen, lean over, and give her a kiss. Of course he had to abandon his important work for Dumbledore and snuggle with her on the sofa, dreaming about what would happen when the damn war was over.

"A huge house? A white picket fence?" he'd say.

"No, of course not, don't be stupid," she'd respond airily, "I'd rather have a cramped apartment where we'd be juggling children, pots and pans, and a Pygmy Puff on a tiny budget."

Alas, he knew that she was jesting.

And it killed him. During those sessions, he was unable to admit the truth: he'd never be able to provide the life that she needed—deserved. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named aside, Remus would always be a dangerous werewolf.

"Dangerous werewolf" was the phrase that Tonks loathed most; the one that sparked huge arguments between the loving duo.

"You're not dangerous! You're my Remus!" she'd shout, stamping her foot in childlike fury.

He would always reply, "I am both."

She never had any response.

He'd continue, knowing fully that it was breaking her heart, and say, "I will always be a werewolf. You can't be too careful. What about our children? I can't put them in this kind of danger! Exposure to someone—something—like me would undoubtedly cause considerable damage."

"Our children," she would choke, scarcely able to breathe for fury and frustration. "_Our_ children, you say! When will we ever get the chance? Why won't you just let me be happy?"

The night would come with tears. They wouldn't speak for a few days, the tension settling slowly, but both would be aware of the anxiety and unsolved aggravation in their relationship. He would unwind first, whereas Tonks would be sore for another couple of days. It would take hours of intense shouting, begging, coaxing, and alcohol to bring down her rage, after which both parties were thoroughly exhausted.

But Remus was a pro.

They'd spend that evening in each other's arms, whispering more wishes. He loved her deeply, and even the moments of pain and anger were dear to him. She forced him to see that he was alive and well; compelled him to concede that there was someone who loved him enough to identify the deficiencies in his character. She painted the walls of his colorless dungeon, breathing spice and sweetness into his bland world. Ever moment with her he savored, every flavorful memory a treasure in his heart.

But she drove him crazy, and that was fact.

And today, he was going to tell her so.

This "living together" arrangement was not working for him. He needed some time and space to sort out his feelings, for he could never get anything done. Even if he was in love (for indeed the lycanthrope was smitten), she needed someone younger, more fun. Richer, smarter, more handsome…the list went on and on. Remus was fond of quoting it during their quarrels, to which she'd typically respond with a stream of profanity that made him wonder exactly how her parents had raised her.

The crux of it was that Tonks needed someone who didn't have a special time of the month; someone who didn't bust out the fangs and fur every full moon.

So this particular morning, he mustered his courage and went to the kitchen, where Tonks was busy shattering pots and pans.

It was early morning; the sleep was still thick in her eyes and her feet were wedged into fluffy, pink bunny slippers. She was softer and less animated than she would be after her morning coffee, but he enjoyed this Tonks every so often. It reminded him that under her tough, energetic exterior, there was someone else. Someone muted and sweet.

But enough of that sentimental chatter. Remus would come on strong.

He had to get this ordeal over with so that he could finally get a proper hold of his life. There was nothing that she could say that would change his mind.

"Nymphadora!"

"…Wotcher, Remus. And don't call me that." The Metamorphagus grasped the handle of the coffee pot and poured them both a cup. "Cream and sugar?"

"I've got—wha—oh, just cream…"

She poured a bit of this and that, stirring and moving, but he couldn't understand what was happening. She handed him a warm mug and inclined her head. "Drink up." Tonks turned her brilliant eyes on him and suddenly he was incapable of moving. His limbs were frozen, his words suspended in midair. His hand quavered. The cup rattled. Coffee dripped from the sides of the mug.

Remus Lupin, for all his kindness and warm, inviting behavior, was not an easily intimidated man. He was brave and strong and—damn it, no matter what Bill said, he wasn't a complete pushover. He was controlled and calm, and didn't flinch in the face of danger.

So it took his completely by surprise when this little slip of a creature, this small woman, cowed him. She burst into his world like so many rainbows and buttercupschanging her hair left and right. Nymphadora Tonks could make him do anything. Whether it was by cajoling, teasing, or by merely by asking, he was under her spell.

He couldn't speak.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her voice a little more insistent, a little louder. "I'm making breakfast. Want some?" She took a long swig of coffee, smiling as the warmth traveled into her body.

_What? No, I don't want breakfast!_

"Sure."

"Good, because I was gonna make you eat anyway." She disappeared behind the counter.

_Of course you were._

"Could you pass me the cereal?" She stood again, holding two bowls.

"What? Oh. Of course." He glared at the bright yellow box as though his failure to communicate his needs was its fault. The sticker smoothed on the cover proclaimed, 'PLASTIC RING INSIDE!' He didn't know he was speaking until he heard the words hang in the air: "Honestly, who uses his rubbish?"

Tonks also eyed the pronouncement. "The rings and stuff? I used to love them. Didn't you?" She tapped a carton of milk experimentally with her wand and it swelled. Eyeing it with trepidation, Tonks moved to the other side of the counter.

"Well…right. I…just don't like cereal," said Remus lamely.

"Fine. No cereal. Even though you eat them every morning anyway." She rolled her eyes. "Pancakes?"

_No! NO!_

"Er—I love pancakes."

"What's wrong with you?" She leaned over and pressed a warm hand to his cold forehead. "You're acting strange, love. There a problem?"

_Yes! Yes there is! _

"I…I…Tonks, I don't think this is working," he said finally.

"What d'you mean, this isn't working? No pancakes, either? I can make waffles, then." She pointed at the waffle pan.

_Waffles would be nice—no. Wait._

"No. This arrangement." The words were grinding against each other, like rusty hinges on a door. It didn't seem right. "I can't get anything done—"

"Like what?" She was humming, already creating a fiasco at the stove.

This wasn't happening the way it was supposed to.

"Er, the…the report for Dumble…I…"

"You turned that in last week," Tonks responded briskly, prodding the stove with her wand. She was coming out of her dream state now.

"No, but…other things. Like…when I work…I'm—er—"

Her gaze was pitying. "And you say I'm useless before my coffee."

Remus thrust his mug down on the countertop with a clatter.

"Hey, hey, now," she said, concerned, "I was just joking—"

"We need to talk!" he barked, inwardly scandalized.

"Oh, please, not this early in the morning. Look, I'm gonna grab the paper. You—"

"Stay _here_, Nymphadora," he said desperately. Perhaps it was his tone of voice, but Tonks turned around, bewildered.

"What's gotten into you, Remus?" A loud sizzling noise accompanied by black smoke issued from the stove. She spared it a frenzied glance before turning back to the werewolf.

_There are reasons, you know! Reasons why I—er—can't live with you! Yes, that's it._

"It's just that—well—your music is too loud!"

"So I'll turn it down," she retorted, frantically aiming jets of water about and somehow missing burning stove completely.

"That's right."

"What's your point, Remus?" The stove made a strange noise. She wanted to rescue her pancakes, but Remus held her fast with his voice.

"My point is…"

_I'm breaking up with you!_

He dropped to one knee.

"…Will you marry me?"

It was her turn to freeze, devoid of any smart-alecky, cheeky comments. "Wh—"

"I love you. Marry me."

She blinked, and the stove hissed faintly in the background. The kitchen was in total chaos. And yet, even with her cheek smudged with pancake batter and her robe inside-out, she was exquisite.

"You don't even have a ring."

He hesitated for a moment, flustered. This was not how he had planned to propose—hell, he hadn't thought of proposing for a long while yet! A few more seconds crept by. Poor, poor man. He was never this spontaneous. It seemed he needed more practice.

Suddenly, Remus was struck with an epiphany. He grasped the cereal box, plunged his fist into it, and unearthed the cheap, clear ring. "I do now." He pulled Tonks's hand close to his heart and slid the hunk of pink plastic on her ring finger.

She started to smile.

"Marry me, Tonks, and make me the craziest man in the universe. You drive me insane." He took a deep breath. "Everything you do makes me angry, exasperated—"

Her face wasn't exactly glowing anymore. Better get back on track.

"—But you complete me. You're beautiful, funny, brilliant…there's no one I'd rather spend the rest of my life with."

"Oh," she sputtered. "I love you too."

The stove released an ominous crackle.

"Er, Remus. This is hardly the way to…"

"Just say yes already!"

"Of course I will!"

The stove burst into flames as Remus took his fiancée and pressed her against the kitchen counter. Her lips and his connected in one massive jolt of electricity. Measuring cups and fruit went flying as they rolled about the smoking kitchen. At one point Tonks' bathrobe may have caught on fire, but they knocked into the sink and all was well.

Remus had never kissed her like this before. He usually was very gentle and sweet, almost hesitant in his embraces as though she was a delicate butterfly. His lips were soft and tender. Tonks generally appreciated it, for few people saw her as a pretty, dainty witch.

But this kiss—oh, this kiss—was full of carnal hunger, passion, and love. His tongue lashed out violently against her lips and she parted them to allow purchase into her mouth. Their tongues clashed, bodies rocking in a quick, ardent rhythm. His mouth was everywhere, landing fire on her neck and collarbone, sweeping downward with a jarring motion. It was powerful and swept up her off her feet like so many hurricanes. She was incapable of even reciprocating the passion in that kiss, the strength in his arms. Finally, gently, he released her, and she slumped against the counter.

He smirked as he observed the kitchen. It was far from the immaculate tiles and countertops that he adored. Then his gaze returned to Tonks. Her expression was priceless.

Maybe she did drive him crazy, cause turmoil…

But a little chaos never hurt anyone.

**-End-**


End file.
